


oh, we're so disarming, darling

by balconys



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkwardness, Boys Being Boys, Crushes, First Dates, Getting Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balconys/pseuds/balconys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crushes suck. Surely there must be a punchline. (Kagehina in ten snapshots.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, we're so disarming, darling

**Author's Note:**

> a massive kagehina sapfest ahead, just giving in to my fate tbh

 

A beginning:

They are fifteen when they first meet in the most unremarkable of ways, inside the dreary walls of the boy’s bathroom no less. There are many things that might’ve passed through his mind in that fleeting moment where their eyes connect – like how Kageyama Tobio looks like someone pissed in his milk, or that he’s probably a demon beneath all that human flesh – except, he sees the patch of skin between his eyebrows crumple as the boy frowns, and he thinks, _just like art paper_ , and for a moment he forgets his stomach churning on spin-dry, almost reaches a hand out with a sudden urge to smooth the spot down.

Then the boy opens his mouth, the moment shatters, and he thinks: _Wow, what an ass_.

 

* * *

 

Local hearsay makes Hinata Shouyou out to be complete and utter idiot, but he thinks that’s a bit uncalled for. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t all that stupid. At least, not all the time. He thinks he’s been improving within the past few days (courtesy of Yachi and her blessed, blessed notes), hitching his grades up just barely past the threshold of yet another monotonous series of supplementary classes.

Aside from that, there a lot of things he prides himself in. He knows how to ride a bike one-handed, knows how to hit a spike – the kind that leaves people shell-shocked in its wake, the snap of it against his palm his favorite kind of music. He knows what loss is, how to swallow it down; how it clings to you long after the fallout like a wedding ring. He knows that Kiyoko loves yellow tulips, and that Asahi loves sunsets in a way every romantic would, slinking off after practice to watch the colors pool over the horizon. He knows Tanaka loves _Titanic_ , even though he’ll never admit it, and that Tsukishima has been secretly doing weight training with a pair of bright red dumbbells in the parking lot long after club hours. He knows Nishinoya has gotten into approximately 12 petty fistfights since he could talk - two of which he personally started - and that he’s won virtually every single one of them. He knows Daichi and Suga have probably loved each other from the day they met, a strange, quiet kind of love that doesn’t need proof or fanfare. These are things he has come to learn, a delicate, painstaking process, like collecting shells from a shore.

And then there’s Kageyama, who is the biggest enigma of all, really, but Hinata is clever enough to know that he is far, far from the grand image he’s hyped up to be. He knows how Kageyama is when he’s really angry, when he folds into himself so tightly until there is nothing left to fold, to touch, to reach. He knows there are things the boy fears too, things that cling just as tightly, reach just as deep. Sometimes Kageyama is a storm. Sometimes it becomes painfully real that he was never some king but just: a boy, and sometimes Hinata has to physically wrench him down, screaming above the noise from the bleachers - _scared, Kageyama-kun? That’s so lame!_ – as he ducks from the fist he knows will come, laughing, because Kageyama’s eyes have cleared, just like that. Fear doesn’t suit the King as much as winning does, he knows. There’s a different kind of beauty there, wild as it brims in the curve of a not-smile across Kageyama’s lips as he sends him a look that feels... kinda-sorta like whiplash, and he knows that they don’t even need to speak.

Hinata knows he may not be a genius like Kenma, but he thinks he’s doing all right.

 

* * *

 

The thing about crushes is, well, you don’t really get any warning before it’s too late.

The train of doom hits Hinata Shouyou in his second year of high school, as he’s staring out the window smack dab in the middle of a lesson on chemical bonds thinking about moles of all things - Kageyama Tobio’s mole, if we’re talking about specifics, the one at the tip of his right ear he thinks no one knows about - except Hinata does, of course; he’s not entirely sure, but he might’ve discovered it the day they went swimming at the beach. He had toweled Kageyama’s hair dry because, well, why the hell not? Teammates did that sort of thing, right? Then he’d taken the leap of faith and blurted that it was _cute_ (he’d meant it as a compliment too, honest), but Kageyama hadn’t been exactly pleased about the declaration, squashing Hinata’s head in his hands with a smile that promised so many, many painful things. He’s quite used to it now, though; plus Kageyama’s fingers had felt really nice in his hair. The crests on the water were gilded with light. The sky was blue.

Anyway. So he’s thinking about the mole when all the conspiracies of fate crash into him in full force, yanking him unceremoniously out of his own little cloud and,

“Oh no,” he whispers, thoroughly horrified. “No no no no _no_.” He’s sprung up straight in his seat, wide eyed and a little disoriented, a couple of his classmates sending him odd looks.

And the eureka moment: the memory is strangely picturesque for something he’d rather forget – running into electric posts on his bike on his way to class because he’s thinking of spiking the setter’s toss, or maybe the curve of his Adam’s apple bobbing when he tips his head back for a drink. How his sweat collects on the underside of his chin before trailing down into the dip of his throat. He’s been running into quite a lot of posts lately: thirteen times to be exact, fourteen if you count this morning, and oh wow, he’s _still_ thinking about that stupid, godforsaken mole and—

He clutches his chest in a fine show of dying. “My life is over.”

“Anything you’d like to share, Hinata-kun?” The teacher pauses mid-sentence to send him a spiteful look.

“I’m going to die,” he tells him, and means it.

 

* * *

 

He’s going to die.

He knows this because his Magic 8 Ball told him so – okay, so it’s not his particularly, it’s his sister’s, but he doesn’t really have any time left to complain about the petty details when faced with something like, oh, how to put this, his _imminent destruction_.

 _Do I have a thing for Kageyama Tobio?_ Cross-legged and slightly out of breath on his floor, he had whispered it into the red sphere right after rocketing through his front door right after class, clutching it tightly like it was a lifeline. And of course, because it was apparent that some higher power had a kick out of ruining the lives of young, innocent countryside boys, the murky shape beneath the glass had moved just past _Very doubtful_ , to, inexplicably, _Signs point to yes_.

So, yeah – he’s pretty much screwed.

After fifteen minutes of muffled screaming and a very serious session of self-reflection in front of his bathroom mirror, the would-be ace of Karasuno High is reduced to this: red-faced and half-naked on his bed in a pair of squid-patterned boxers, glaring accusingly at a photo of Kageyama Tobio on the screen of his IPhone Kenma had given him for Christmas (it was his old model).

“Think you’re soooo cool, huh? Think you’re hot stuff? Well, guess _what_?” He nearly shouts, makes a face to match the unimpressive look Kageyama exudes from his screen – it’s totally not his background wallpaper, please – a selfie Nishinoya took together with Hinata too after getting through that hell with Shiratorizawa. Kageyama’s expression is unsilted, which is a miracle after the first, somewhere between Pissed Wet Gerbil and a normal smile, but still not quite. Except, there’s something in it that Hinata can’t quite put a finger on: mouth parted in that frozen moment just before it has a chance to spread across his lips, a flush up to his ears, a sheen of sweat shimmering along his collarbone as he gazes straight into the lens, a little happy and sated and _proud_ and – and –

“You’re so hooooot,” Hinata despairs, head crumpling into his pillow in defeat.

 

* * *

 

He’s been thinking about it a lot lately, but the more Kageyama does the more it feels transient against his fingers. Tracing everything back to one seed, back to where this – where they began – he wonders when night training suddenly turned into sleepovers, insults thrown back and forth on court into quiet gazes, when _his_ dream became _theirs_ , and it was no longer a matter of who was faster, sharper, better, after it dawned that they were never meant to be two separate halves but _one_.

(Perhaps it had transpired the day Kageyama turned to Hinata grinning at him, and he’d blinked with a start, realizing he was looking at a mirror.)

 

* * *

 

Turns out, Hinata Shouyou is as brilliant with animals just as he is with people.

That being said, the flipside of the matter is just as true, and Kageyama should never be allowed within a 10-foot radius of any animal ever again.

Twenty minutes into their very first, very official date, Kageyama has already threatened the monkeys with his straw after they snatched his juice carton from between the bars, screamed obscenities at the three ostriches who thought Kageyama’s hair was a mop of something delicious, and very nearly chased an entire family of penguins back underwater for merely existing, had the zookeepers failed to hold the boy back from jumping over the fence.

“They looked at me funny,” he’d said, as if that justified everything. By the time the tiny screaming train of kindergartners had long vacated the area, much to Kageyama’s relief, Hinata was starting to seriously question his decision to come visit the zoo. Except, that would be like admitting defeat, and he was definitely not going to lose.

“You’re such a baby,” Hinata tells him instead. “Wuss,” he throws in for good measure.

“Shut up. I don’t like animals,” Kageyama replies, terse.

“Yeah, I don’t think they like you very much either,” he grins. “Also, you need to work on that smile. Your face is probably scaring them away.”

“Do I look like I care? I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Hinata’s about to start a speech about how long he’d wanted to go, and how he’d won that bet 15-14 fair and square so Kageyama has no choice and absolutely no say in the matter, and he needed to man the hell up because the zoo is a beautiful, beautiful wild haven – and then he sees it.

He makes an unintelligible little sound in his throat and shrieks: _“Horses!”_

Which more or less explains Kageyama’s current predicament.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” he repeats, and knows beyond all doubt that it is over for him. The horse in question is admittedly quite beautiful; its hide is a golden brown, its tail long and white like it was dipped in cream. They’re sharing it because it’s the only horse left unperturbed by Kageyama’s existence; plus, it was that or the pony, and they’d spent roughly about five minutes jostling each other on the grass for the horse, until Kageyama regained a sliver of common decency and called it a draw, for now. It neighs softly as Hinata scratches its chin and brings his legs over its back; Kageyama throws it the sourest look he can manage before Hinata loses his patience and pulls him up.

He’s still making the same face when the zookeeper unties the ropes from the pole, and, as if sensing his freedom approaching, the animal kicks up on his back legs with a wild noise, sending Kageyama scrabbling frantically around Hinata’s waist with a dignified yelp.

“Whooaaa girl, easy, easy!” Thankfully, Hinata manages to calm the horse into stillness with three pats on the side of its neck. A fragile moment later Kageyama finds himself with his arms twined around Hinata’s chest, pressed tightly against his back, his breathing ragged against his nape and – well, the whole thing couldn’t really be more awkward actually.

“Ahhhhhhh _yeah_ ,” Kageyama says lamely, moving to untangle himself from Hinata, from existence. His pulse is absolutely roaring in his ears, he knows Hinata knows, and he would very much like to go walk himself to the bottom of a lake right now.

Except Hinata doesn’t quite let him, grabbing his hands in place. “Don’t you dare run away!” he cries, with that annoyingly determined face he always makes when he wants something. It’s apparently the right thing to say, because in the next moment Kageyama’s face has aligned itself right into Hinata’s wavelength.

“Please, if anyone’s gonna run away, it’s you,” he scoffs, righting himself, the top of Hinata’s head tickling his chin.

“Oh yeah?” Hinata’s tone turns teasing. In the light of the afternoon his eyes look like they’re liquid fire. Or something like that. Kageyama smirks back at him. Swallows. “Better hold on to me tight then, my Ki—”

“I will _kick_ you.”

 

* * *

 

They can be so _good_ for each other, but most of the time it feels like forgetting, like a block-out. An empty court.

The words taste acrid as they leave his mouth, toxic between the chinks in his teeth, and he knows he needs to stop right _now_ because beneath it all Hinata is human too, just flesh and blood and brittle, brittle bone, but it’s too late. Three feet away he watches as Hinata breaks, falls through the gaps in his fingers. Around them the lights of Tokyo flash in a thousand windows, a curse of smog climbing up their ankles – he can’t see Hinata through the haze, but he hears him – _okay_ , like something winded-up tight; the finality of it sends him into a stunned silence as Hinata turns, tears down the street and disappears, an ocean of fear swelling from beneath him, and he sinks into it like a shipwreck.

(He will remember this, each time he returns to the city. He will always remember this.)

 

* * *

 

Another beginning:

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hinata tells him, one week after the end. A promise.

Kageyama stares at him, frozen. The crowd of third years part around them easily like the Red Sea. Hinata just keeps staring at him, five feet away, sun-stained and brazen.

Once again, Kageyama doesn’t quite know what to say but: “Idiot,” drawing closer, a moth to a flame, and takes his hand with trembling fingers.

“So, how about it?” Hinata says, soft, now merely breaths away. There is no need for apologies or second thoughts. Kageyama nods.

(One more time.)

 

* * *

 

“I wish Kageyama-nii-chan stayed loooonger,” Natsu whines into her pillow, her eyes glowing in the dark. Her hair flutters around her cheek and gets into Hinata’s eyes as a bedside fan stirs the heavy evening heat. “He’s so coooool.”

“He’s not that cool,” Hinata mutters and tries to quell the smile tugging up his lips, but it is a futile attempt; Quickly, he buries his cheek into the pillow next to Natsu’s head. “He can’t come and play with you all the time. He’s a busy guy y’know.”

“No, nii-chan, he needs to come back! He’s really fun and smart – and dreamy too!”

He blinks. “Dream—wait, what—“

“—and he can do all these really neat tosses with the ball like it’s nothing, like buwaaa!” the bed creaks loudly as Natsu flings her tiny arms into the air, nearly punching Hinata’s right eye permanently into its socket.

“Okay, okay, you know what I think? I think that you should go to sleep right now so I can go do my homework or Suga-san will murder me – and yes, okay, fine, fine. You win. Maybe I could ask him to come over again. No big. We need to improve that quick strike anyway. For the team, you know?”

Natsu squeals a squeal of no tomorrow, her legs kicking the air. Then, as if put under spell, she curls around her arms and immediately settles into sleep. Hinata stares at her, smile fond, and sits up to leave,

“Kageyama-nii-chan talked about you too, you know,” he hears her mumble drowsily, just as he’s about to tear off his socks. It makes him pause, turn, retake his spot on the bed.

“Yeah?” he prompts quietly, the bed dipping with his weight. He reaches out a hand to brush her bangs out of her face.

“He said you were a dumb clumsy loser and, ah—“ a cat yawn, “probably the biggest idiot he ever met in his life.”

“Hey! Uncalled for! That is so not true,” he grumbles. Somehow he wants to laugh at himself, maybe punch the boy the first thing tomorrow.

Natsu curls even further into her chest. “But he likes you anyway.”

 

* * *

 

They can play a flawless quick set better than any other combo out there, and perhaps it’s just fate’s sense of humor that they aren’t really the best partners. Their edges are sharp and unyielding, and they aren’t quite a perfect fit yet – mostly because they’re 16, and stubborn, and quite stupid. Hinata knows how to handle virtually every personality type on the chart except Kageyama’s, and Kageyama can be as socially stunted as a rock, as sociable as rocks can get; the only communicating the poor boy can properly manage is through volleyball. So, it’s quite a logical turn of events that one day, he marches into court, hurls a serve right into Hinata’s head, and declares: _You’re a blockhead but you’ll do. Go out with me_.

(In their defense, ten years later it will be much easier, when they’re not just young cocky boys with nothing to lose. They’ll still be boys then, but they’ll be wiser boys, on stuffy flights and shared hotel rooms in languages they can’t understand, waking up together at 4:00 am for early training with Japan’s National team, their team; there will be medals and instant ramen and more stuffy flights, lazy kisses, impromptu make-out sessions in other dreary bathrooms – and then, later, a house in the city, more medals, a cat, perhaps – but one thing is certain: they will never have perfect harmony or whatever shoujo manga teaches them to believe, but they will have each other, and they will discover it has always been enough.)

But, for now, there is this:

“Bruh,” Hinata manages, because Kageyama Tobio has just – kissed him (????). _Ah, would you look at that_ , Daichi hums wistfully from the benches, next to a smug looking Suga, Nishinoya and Tanaka catcalling behind them – as Kageyama barricades out the clubroom, ears burning, past a wicked-looking Tsukishima who fails to block his way. He gets three leaps out before Hinata grabs him by the sleeve of his jersey, pulls him around, insults his sense of romance, “that was totally lame!” and finally, smashes their lips together.

It’s more teeth and sweaty hands than anything, really, but suddenly they’re both smiling shyly against each other’s noses, the grass beneath them possibly brighter than the sky, and,

 

it’s – it's okay. It’s a start.


End file.
